Recollections
by Winters-Dawn1221
Summary: After the Red Year, Argonian forces invaded southern Morrowind. House Telvanni was nearly destroyed. Nearly two hundred years later, a Telvanni survivor, Jolinar Aren, searches for her brother.


**Author's Note:**This was written for a contest at The-Bards-College over on deviantART. The subject is Origin. Besides this story, there is an accompanying picture, drawn by RoslynnSommers over on dA.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Elder Scrolls series of role playing games. They're © Bethesda Game Studios. I do own Jolinar Telvanni as she is my Dunmeri character.

**Recollection: Retracing Her Roots**

**Jolinar Telvanni** tossed her black leather jacket on her bed before pulling the outer pieces of the Archmage's robes on over her head. Once in place, she adjusted them accordingly before fitting her belt on over them. What she was about to do was too serious for casual clothes and far too sensitive for her black leathers.

Jolinar Telvanni was going to the Riften jail. After two years of searching and tracking, she'd finally found a relative who wasn't killed in the fires of the Argonian invasion of Port Telvannis.

As she locked the door to Riftweald Manor (even the Mistress of Thieves can't trust herentire guild), Jolinar thought on the memories of color and emotion, coupled with insight that had been given and the vague understanding her age had brought. Memories that she had bought for a peculiarly heartbreaking price.

_- A Very Long Time Ago In Black Marsh-_

_**It was**__ the empty, dry feeling that awoke her. She wasn't sure what the feeling meant - in fact, she wasn't sure of anything except her own existence and even that was an odd concept to such a infantile being. The babe only knew she needed the warm, creamy flowing stuff that the warm humming lady would feed her. She remembered -_vaguely _-that once upon a time someone else had fed her in a different fashion. She had been enveloped in warm cloth and skin and her mother -_ where was her mother? _- had been the feeder then._

_She did the only thing she knew to do in such a drastic crisis._

_She let out a heart shuddering wail._

_The other babe, the boy, her other part, shifted when his twin's cries filled the air. Blurry red eyes blinked open before he too began to cry._

_When one hungered, so did the other._

_When one was content, so was the other._

_When one was dirty and miserable, so was the other._

_They were two halves to one piece, two souls tied together. Twins ever tied to the other's being._

_There was a creek and the great wooden barrier swung inward softly as the warm humming lady entered. She cooed softly at both infants before pulling out a canister full of the creamy flowing stuff the girl so craved. She fed the golden haired infant first before, after sating her apatite, she fed the ebony haired infant._

_The girl gurgled, showing gratitude for the creamy flowing stuff that now filled her, warmed her, and made her feel contentment._

_"Shh, Gol-ski," the reptilian voice of the Argonian woman soothed, extending an arm and brushing a finger over the Dunmer babe's soft, ashen cheek._

_The boy garbled, jealous over the attention his sister was receiving. The Argonian laughed quietly to herself, before running her hand once more over a happy Gol-Ski's golden hair and adjusting Brand-Shei against her chest._

_"Dearest!"_

_Gol-Ski took no notice as her Argonian caretaker left to meet the call of her mate, Brand-Shei still snuggled in her arms. Brand-Shei yawned at his sister and, in return, she blew a snot bubble._

_The golden haired infant yawned, warm and happy, before her dark red eyes fluttered shut and she drifted back to sleep._

_The wind whistled outside in the warm marsh, the ancient Hist trees groaning deeply in response. The baby, softly sleeping, took no notice when a faint scraping sound came from the window and a shadowy figure slipped noiselessly inside her nursery._

_The shadow crept across the room until it stood over the twins' cradle. Taking note of the content, it let out a low bestial growl. The Shadowscale - for it was a Shadowscale - seriously debated leaving then without the prize. They wanted the boy, the girl was optional and an added bonus in payment if she was retrieved with her brother._

_The steady rhythm of multiple pairs of feet approaching reminded the reptilian assassin of the precious time slipping fast out of his fingers._

_In a split moment decision, the Shadowscale grabbed Gol-Ski from her cradle and escaped the home of the Argonian fisherman and his wife through the window where he had entered, taking the still slumbering baby Dunmer with him._

_Minutes later, a scream coupled with the roar and snarling of a male Argonian filled the air throughout the swamp as the two adoptive parents discovered their Dunmeri daughter missing from her crib._

_The Shadowscale quickly ran away through the undergrowth, keen to get at least one of the surviving Telvanni children to his employer._

**Jolinar walked** into the crisp winter air and pulled her hood lower over her hair, the golden strands still as vibrant as they were nearly two hundred years before when she had been brought kicking and screaming into the world.

The Master Thief walked passed the Temple of Mara and into the market, where merchants were winding down for the day and closing their stalls. She gave Brynjolf a curt nod where he stood boxing his latest scheme, Daedra Tears strength potion, at his rundown stand.

Her eyes turned towards an empty stand, the only one without wares on display and without New Life Festival decorations over the top.

She was about to fix that.

_- A Very Long Time Ago Across Cyrodiil and Skyrim -_

_**She did**__ not like her new surroundings, her other part was gone, the warm humming lady was gone, the creamy flowing stuff was gone, even the stinky gentle man was gone. She was not content, she was miserable. Whenever she wailed, which in the past had always brought someone to her to either fill her belly, cuddle her, or tend to her, she would hear a coarse voice mumbling and she would either have a thing filled with icy flowing stuff fed to her or she would be cleaned with hard, painful movements and rough cloth._

_After what felt to her to be forever, but was really only three days to the matured mind, the coarse painful man disappeared and she was given over to a cold-warm lady and a furry hissing monster._

_The Argonian and the Khajiit had been searching for the unaccounted for Telvanni twins. They had a long standing vendetta against the core Telvanni family. The Great House gifted in magic had kept both their families as slaves for at least three generations each, the only reason the two had escaped was due to the confusion of the Oblivion Crisis. For six years they had waited to exact their revenge, plotting and planing as the roots of hatred festered within, and now, with the aid of one of Black Marsh's finest Shadowscale assassins, they had the means to do so._

_They had planned their revenge with the boy or even both twins in mind, but if the girl was all they had..._

_Gol-Ski shifted uncomfortably. She did not like the constant movement, despite the fact that she was once more handled warmly and gently. The creamy flowing stuff was different, it was warm but it didn't taste right. She was nourished, but she wasn't content._

_It felt like a never ending moving walk. She remembered moving in small intervals, but that was with her other part and they were always very short movements._

_She didn't like the place that stank with damp air. She didn't like the place with the scary noises and the single color - wasn't the warm humming lady that color? - and the up and down movement. She wasn't sure about the sweet smelling place, with a clean dampness in the air and noises different to those she used to hearing or had been hearing recently. She knew that she never wanted to stay in the up and down, cold, loud, scary place that seemed never ending, ever going. At long, long last she felt they were in a new place, still cold, but the smell... The smell... She liked the smell. She was sure she had never been around it before but she liked it._

_She thought, amongst the noises, she heard 'the pine scent is too strong here' but she didn't understand._

_She did feel... Funny when a strange shadow passed over her during the constant, continuous movement._

_The shadow, a statue of a female Altmer, weary faced with her hair hanging loosely behind her, a sword in one hand and the likeness of lighting circulating around her finger tips in the other. Clad in the armor of the Blades', the statue of the now dead Hero of Kvatch, Savior of Bruma, and Champion of Cyrodiil still stood tall, watching over the city she had made her home._

_Gol-Ski didn't know any of that, only that the shadow she had passed through made her feel funny. It made her belly, now full of the funny warm flowing stuff, tingle in a strange way._

_When they left the nice smelling place, it was to the up and down, cold, loud, scary place once more. She hated it, she wasn't sure what hate was - how could she? - but the feelings she felt would one day translate as hatred._

_At last, at long last after another stretch of never ending going, they entered a warmer place. It wasn't as warm as the sweet smelling, clean damp place, but the smell! The nice smell was there and it was everywhere! Stronger, heavier, and Gol-Ski loved it. She didn't have her other part -_ sometimes she still wondered where Brand-Shei was _- but now she was so distracted that she couldn't focus on it._

_She was aware of arguing, the cold-warm lady was arguing with the furry hissing monster about going to 'Whiterun' or 'Riften'. At last they went to the 'Whiterun' place. They went through the nice smelling place and then out to an open aired place. She liked the nice smelling place but the open place! She was sure that in all the moving she had done since being taken from her other part that she had never been in a place where the air was so... So... Big!_

_She could still feel the big sky when they entered a new place. It smelled clean, but there was a distant dampness, not quite like what the dampness in the sweet smelling place had been, but not as stinky as the dampness in the damp, stinky place. There was also a fresh smell. She didn't like smelling it as much as she did the nice smell but it did feel pleasant to her._

_After that was strange. She knew the cold-warm lady wasn't moving, but at the same time, they were._

_The Argonian and Khajiit had, in fact, hired a carriage to Windhelm. From there they planned to take the Dunmeri babe to Morrowind, to leave her on the poisonous shore of Vvardenfell in the ruins of a Telvanni tower where she would no doubt be found by that horrid wizard Neloth who was always poking his nose where it shouldn't be poked._

_Oh how the death of a Telvanni child, after the core family fell and after the Red Year, would wound him and any Telvanni survivors._

_Children were a gift to the Mer, not as plentiful for them as the children of Man or of the Beast-folk were. They were a treasure to be guarded. And the loss of this one would hurt greatly._

_Gol-Ski, or Erandyl Telvanni, didn't know of her coming doom._

_She only knew that the longer they moved, the colder it got. She had thought, a vague little thought, that the cold was all gone after the up and down, cold, loud, and scary place had given way to the nice smelling place. One day, if she were to remember it, that thought would register as her being wrong.  
><em>  
>(And oh how wrong she was!)<p>

_Suddenly, the steady movement ceased and, in its place, a soaring feeling as Gol-Ski and the cold-warm lady tumbled down,_ down,**down**...

_The Argonian cursed, clutching the baby to her as they fell from the carriage and into a steep ditch._

_Bandits and thugs jumped at the remaining occupants of the over turned carriage, stealing and killing._

_After a while, when all were dead, including the Khajiit, one looked up from a coin purse at the sound of labored, wet breathing. He motioned for an archer to seek out the source._

_A few moments later, with the twang of a bow string, the Argonian slumped over, dead. Gol-Ski wiggled tiredly, too drained to wonder why the cold-warm lady had suddenly stopped moving, why the steady heartbeat had stopped, why there was silence and no movement. She was too tired for any of that._

_So the baby Dark Elf fell asleep, not knowing that she was trapped and on the brink of death.  
><em>  
><strong>Jolinar approached<strong> the Riften Jail as a light snow began to fall in the late twilight. Sounds of merriment were already coming from the Bee and the Barb as people entered the tavern for the evening. But still, the Mage-Thief pressed on, eager to fulfill her mission before night fell on the City of Thieves.

She thought briefly on the price for her memories, as that had been kept in memoriam of-.

But she wouldn't think on that. No, no that was indeed her darkest day. No, she'd recall an old-new memory, a fond memory in which she found a home.

_- A Very Long Time Ago In Skyrim -_

_**The soft**__ clip-clop of a horse was what woke Gol-Ski, though she didn't know that that was what the noise was. She only knew she was cold, hungry, and very uncomfortable. Slightly conscious thought and reason gave way to instinct and the babe began to wail._

_The horse stopped and the rider, hearing the child's crying, quickly dismounted and went to investigate._

_Though weary, the rider was a mage and, with a quick candlelight spell, was able to see the child through the murky darkness._

_A Dunmer child, barely over a year old, was in the loose embrace of an Argonian female. The mage, a Dunmer himself, instantly thought something was wrong, especially with the Argonian invasion of the southern Morrowind mainland and the massacre of thousands of his people at the hands of the Argonian forces. He looked along the length of the ditch in both directions and discovered the wreckage of a carriage and the bodies of two Nords, a Bosmer, and a Khajiit. It was obvious that there had been an attack and they had been pushed off of the road so as not to warn any travelers of the nearby bandits._

_Speaking of which..._

_Gol-Ski screamed louder than ever when the terrifying sounds of fire and lightning reached her ears, accompanied by the clash of metal and the twang of a bow._

_After several minutes, the noises ceased, all except the babe's cries._

_The mage, nursing a long but shallow cut on his left arm, returned to the edge of the ditch as the warm golden light of a Restoration spell flowed over him from his right hand. Moving quickly, he carefully slid to the bottom of the ditch and picked up the baby from the dead woman's slack arms._

_Gol-Ski quieted, sensing more than seeing a presence similar to one she had felt so long ago -_ had that been her father? _- but this wasn't her father, though he was close, so close..._

_Deciding that being warm was better then being given the creamy flowing stuff or any strange substitute she had been given in the past almost-forever, Gol-Ski turned her small ashen face to the source of warmth and fell asleep with thoughts of almost-father giving her the highly coveted creamy flowing stuff when she woke again._

_The mage looked down at the Dunmeri babe, almost surprised, as she quieted and buried herself in his tattered robes. A soft smile broke over his face as soon as he realized that she had fallen asleep._

_The next morning, or 'when the dark goes away' to the babe, she woke up, still held by almost-father. She was moving again, but this time it was slower, easier. She looked around to find that the big light above had come from it's nap and that none of the floating pillows were up there either._

_She was soon given some creamy flowing stuff once the mage realized she was awake. She didn't want to cry, the part of her where the creamy flowing stuff passed through to get to it's resting place was sore. Once the goat milk from the farmer had been given to the babe and she had settled back down, the Dunmer mage continued to where he knew an inn would be._

_Gol-Ski felt rather comfortable for the next few days. She was given creamy flowing stuff, she was held almost constantly by almost-father, and she was warm. The only thing missing was her other part, but all knowledge of his wellbeing, contentment, and their joint needs was becoming a faraway thing to her._

_When they entered the big, cold, echoey place, Gol-Ski decided she didn't mind the cold as much as she had in the place with the faint nice smell, but 'getting used to' was something she couldn't quite grasp yet. She and almost-father went up, down, and over many cold and bleak paths before they were in the shadow of a great big... Thing._

_This was, in fact, the Palace of Kings._

_Gol-Ski didn't know that though, so she just contented herself with sucking her thumb. It was still a relatively new concept to her, but she needed something because her stuffed flea 'Dopey' was gone and so was her stuffed dragon 'Mar'._

_Almost-father began to talk to someone - a Jarl Wulfrik Heavy-hand._

_She heard snatches of conversation once the stiff sounding people allowed him to speak to this heavy Jarl man._

"...found... Bandits... Argonian caretaker... Dead..."

"...shame... Orphan..."

"...yes... Send... Honorhall..."

"...too many... Dunmer... Overflowing... After... Mountain... Erupt..."

"...what... With... Her..."

"...you're... Dark Elf... Deal... With... This... Tend... Race... Not... Nords... Responsibility..."

"...how... That... Studies... College..."

"...you... Selfish... Such... Death... Destruction... Leave... Child... Alone... Die... You... Master... Magic..."

_There had been a long, silent stretch and Gol-Ski wondered if they had all fallen asleep._

_At last almost-father spoke.  
><em>  
>"...take... Her... Back... College... Winterhold... Raise... Her... There... She'll... Safe..."<p>

_Gol-Ski stopped listening, too tired to pay even a little attention to the conversation._

(And Jolinar would forever be thankful for being given the subconscious memory of what happened next, of what happened when her father claimed her as his daughter)

_"Master Aren," Wulfrik Heavy-hand looked from the Dunmer mage to the sleeping child. "I will write you up a certificate of adoption. It will be suitable for the Jarl of Winterhold and your Archmage. Normally, an official would go to inspect your place of residence, but as we know of the condition of the accommodations the College offers it's senior apprentices, I believe we can make an exception in this case." He pulled a blank parchment roll towards him before dipping a quill in an ink bottle. "What will you name her?"_

_"Name her?" Savos Aren said back, startled._

_"Why yes, the child cannot go through life without a proper name," the Jarl reminded him, chuckling._

_"Ah, I see..." Savos looked down at the golden haired Dark Elf babe whose face was almost like a blueberry, nestled amongst her tattered blanket, before returning his gaze to the Jarl of Eastmarch. "Jolinar... Jolinar Aren."_

_"A lovely name," the Jarl said, writing it under Savos' name. "What does it mean?"_

_"Violet light."_

_The Jarl felt compelled to ask 'in what language', but he restrained himself and finished filling out the information. "How old is she by your peoples' reconning?"_

_"I would say a year or so," Savos said, glancing once more at Gol-Ski-now-Jolinar._

_Wulfrik Heavy-hand scratched a few more lines on the parchment, stopping every now and then to dip his quill in the ink. At last he stopped and extended the quill to Savos. "Just sign your name and you will be the proud father of a healthy Dark Elven baby."_

_Savos gingerly took the quill and signed his name in loopy, sloping letters._

_"I do hope you have someone to help you," the Jarl said kindly once the Dunmer mage had picked the newly christened Jolinar back up from the cushioned chair she had been nestled on. "I know from experience that children can be hard for a single parent, and a daughter a difficult venture for a father."_

_Savos nodded absently, staring thoughtfully at Jolinar Aren._

_"I believe there is someone in Winterhold willing to help me."  
><em>  
><strong>Jolinar's earliest<strong> memories held her father and the High Elven mage Alana Ever-fair. The Altmer, with hair even blonder then Jolinar's, had been like a mother to the motherless Dark Elf. Last she had heard (not that very long ago), the Master of Alteration had a home in Wayrest apprenticing some Breton princeling or something of that ilk.

She walked carefully down the ice covered steps leading to the Riften Jail, hesitated, breathed deeply like Vex had instructed (after the stab wound...), and pushed the door open enough for her to slip in without letting too much of the snow flurry in after her.

The jailer glanced up, looked back at his papers, and did a double take.

"Archmage Aren...?"

"Yes, I was wondering if you would be so kind as to release a prisoner for me." The Master Thief put on an endearing smile for emphasis.

He stared at her dumbly for a moment before shaking his head slightly. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but I can't just-."

"I have coin," Jolinar said, dropping a bag of at least fifty Septims on the table.

The jailer looked between the coin purse and the Archmage several times before nodding dumbly. "Who do you need, ma'am?"

Jolinar smiled sweetly. "Well..."

_- Not So Very Long Ago On Solstheim -_

_**Jolinar Telvanni**__ stood on the shore of Solstheim, staring thoughtfully at the smoking summit of Red Mountain on Vvardenfell in the distance._

_"Erandyl Telvanni!"_

_The Master Thief turned to see the Telvanni wizard Neloth striding towards her._

_"My name is Jolinar."_

_Neloth came up next to her and stared moodily as she turned to gaze at Morrowind in the distance. He chose to ignore her 'obstinate tendencies'. Nothing would make him stop using a strong Telvanni name in place of a name from a lesser - and unimportant - House._

_"You want to search for your brother," he said blatantly._

_Jolinar nodded. "I know he's alive, I think that's a part of being twins, knowing those kinds of things, but I'm positive he's alive."_

_"And?"_

_"I've crossed paths with him, though I missed him by a hair."_

_Neloth crossed his arms._

_"And what did your father say when you spoke to him?"_

_Jolinar bowed her head towards the ashy ground, her chest constricting in pain. Her father..._

_"He was killed by that... By a Thalmor agent before I could speak to him on the matter."_

_Neloth feigned surprise. "Ah yes, that nasty business with the Eye. I do wish you had sent for me while you still had it, Archmagister, instead of giving it to the Psijic Monks to dispose of."_

_Jolinar winced, she still wasn't used to being addressed with her father's title. "I apologize, my master wizard didn't suggest we should get your 'help' and I was busy going through Nordic and Dwemer ruins fighting Draugr and Falmer to get answers."_

_"Hm, and I suppose you forgot to find Azura's Star?"_

_She bent down and pulled the star shaped soul gem out of her satchel, dumped on the ground and covered in ash, before standing back up and handing it to him. "No, I didn't."_

_Neloth looked it over critically before placing it inside his robe's outer pocket. "You found it." He was rather surprised, he himself hadn't been able to find any trace of the reusable soul gem in the few decades he'd been looking._

_"Azura's shrine isn't that far from the college," Jolinar shrugged. She then looked back at Neloth. "What will you give me in return? I had to go all the way from Winterhold to Falkreath and back again to get that."_

_"I'll give you what you wanted."_

_"And that is?"_

_"The scroll containing the self-continuing record of the Telvanni family line."_

_Jolinar's dark red eyes opened wide. "Where... No, wait, why would you have it?"_

_Neloth gave the younger Dunmer a cool look. "Because I am the greatest of all those in our House."_

_The Master Thief huffed before following the Telvanni Wizard back to Tel Mithryn. After ten minutes of walking over the ashy shoreline and up the mushroom towers, they entered the Tel Mithryn main citadel. Jolinar watched as Neloth rummaged through a drawer before, at last, he pulled out an ancient scroll, Alteration magic rolling off of it in waves._

_"Take a look at the bottom of Resdyn Telvanni's line," he instructed, handing the scroll to the eager Jolinar. "And do be careful! That record is over a thousand years old!"_

_Jolinar only nodded, rolling and unrolling the scroll as she went through until at last she found the bottom of Resdyn Telvanni's line.  
><em>  
><strong>Jolinar Telvanni, formerly Jolinar Aren, formerly Gol-Ski of Black Marsh, formerly Erandyl Telvanni<strong> - Riften, Skyrim and Winterhold, Skyrim, formerly of Stormhold, Black Marsh, formerly of Port Telvannis, Morrowind - alive, aged 197

**Brand-Shei, formerly Brandyl Telvanni** - Riften, Skyrim, formerly of Bravil, Cyrodiil, formerly of Stormhold, Black Marsh, formerly of Port Telvannis, Morrowind - alive, aged 197

_Jolinar almost dropped the scroll._

_"I... I..."_

_"I thought I said to be careful with that!" Neloth chided, frowning at the younger Telvanni._

_"But... I put... I put my own brother in-in jail!" Jolinar exclaimed, clearly distressed._

_"I see, that can be distressing," Neloth said unhelpfully, taking the scroll from Jolinar's loose grip and rolling it back up tightly and sealing it._

_"What am I supposed to do?"_

_"I would say that you should pay his bail. I thought they made you Archmage because you were smart, young lady, you are acting the part of a dull blade!"_

_Jolinar stared blankly as plans formed in her head. She should have enough gold in her safe in her home in Riften to get her brother out._

_She turned abruptly and walked to the focal point for the runed plateau at the base of the tower._

_"Where are you going?"_

_Jolinar looked back at the Master Wizard, a determined look in her eyes. "I'm going to get Brandyl."  
><em>  
><strong>Brand-Shei shifted,<strong>uncomfortable in his cell. He had been in there for months on end. He knew thieves weren't meant to be in jail this long if their only offense had been a single trinket, but he had an idea the Thieves Guild had lined the jailer's pockets to keep him in this long, especially since they had framed him for the stolen ring.

"You're sure about this, Mistress Aren?"

"Of course I am!"

Brand-Shei looked up, startled, to see the Archmagister standing within the prison with the jailer. What's more, the jailer was making his way towards his cell.

The two Dunmer locked eyes-.

_**She rubbed**__ her face against the soft body of her toy. She stopped when she heard an 'achoo!' from her other part. The two infants giggled._

**"It seems **to be your lucky day," the jailer told Brand-Shei, opening up the cell door

The merchant walked slowly towards the mage, who smiled.

_**Full of**__ the creamy flowing stuff, the twins snuggled together, smiling in their warmth and contentment._

**"Thank you**, Archmage Aren."

"Please, Archmage Aren was my father, just Jolinar, please," the Archmage asked, smiling kindly.

Brand-Shei nodded his head. "Thank you, Jolinar."

_**The orange**__ hot glowing hurt was gone, the humming lady had made it vanish. The two clung to each other, scared. Where was mother? Where was father? Where were they?_

**"I would** like you to come back with me to Riftweald Manor, I believe I've found out some interesting things on your birth family before the Argonian invasion."

"Really? Like what?"

"Oh, family records. I believe I've actually located a few close family members."

"Thank you, thank you so much, Jolinar Aren!"

"My pleasure."

_**Father set**__ down his journal and turned to the two babes in the double bassinet._

_"My Erandyl, my Brandyl, may Azura guide and protect you."_

**Brand-Shei looked** at the journal of his father in disbelief. "I have a sister..."

Jolinar smiled. "You do... And, I have a brother."

_**Jolinar stood **__at the Shrine of Clavicus Vile, her words carefully prepared and her price in hand._

_"Yes?" The Daedric Lord asked., materializing before her. Barbas sat quietly close by._

_"I would like to make a deal."_

_"About...?"_

_"Give me back the memories of my first few years of life, in full clarity and without blemish."_

_Clavicus scowled but nodded. "And in return?"_

_Jolinar looked down at the large pink oval gem before offering it up._

_The Daedric Lord grinned wickedly as he snatched the large jewel up and examined it. "It'll be as you wish, my dear!"_

_Jolinar only sniffled.  
><em>  
><strong>"...Archmage Aren...?"<strong>

"My name is Erandyl Telvanni and I'm your... Your... Sister. I'm your twin sister." Jolinar suddenly threw her arms around her brother's neck - her brother! - causing him to stumble slightly as she hugged him. "I don't remember you, Brandyl," she whispered from where her face was pressed against his shoulder, "but I know I've missed you."

Brand-Shei finally hugged his sister back, a hole in his heart that he hadn't known existed filled itself.

They stood like that for a while, just getting the fill of each other and basking in their new found bond.

After a while, Jolinar pulled away and smiled sheepishly at her dark haired twin. Some things needed to be kept from him, he couldn't know of her deals with Daedra, but...

"Now, Brand-Shei, I need to tell you about my other career..."


End file.
